


The Write Match // B.H.

by theresadazzlinghaze



Category: Bill Hader - Fandom, SNL - Fandom, Saturday Night Live
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theresadazzlinghaze/pseuds/theresadazzlinghaze
Summary: Meredith Elliot, a writer who gets hired by Saturday Night Live, is a hardworking, determined woman who will not let anyone get in her way. She loves the excitement of writing something new every week, but there is one thing she cannot stand about it. The celebrities. After writing a hit sketch, Meredith is forced to work with cast members, such as Bill Hader, to create characters and sketches. She treats the jobs as she would any other writing assignment. That is until she goes out after a show one Saturday night.





	The Write Match // B.H.

I walk down the busy New York City street, my heels clicking the ground. Most people would feel uncomfortable walking through thousands of people everyday just to get to work, but it's just a part of living and working in New York City to me. I promised myself I was going to get up early enough so I didn't have to rush myself, but you know how that goes. 

So here I am, slowing my pace before I enter the huge television studio. I've only ever been in this building twice, the first time for my audition and the second time being right now. I hit the elevator button, my purse thrown over my shoulder, and a racing mind. I never really know what life is going to throw at me next, I especially don't know what to expect today since it's my first day as a writer for Saturday Night Live. I was told that today would just be a day of introductions and getting comfortable in my new workplace, but I doubt it. 

I walk out of the elevator into the main office, and seeing how everyone is acting, and is just going through the motions, not looking in my direction, I'm guessing they have new people all the time. I recognize the man standing amongst a small group of people. I shyly walk up to him, smiling just the slightest, reaching my hand out to him. He accepts, smiling back and shaking it firmly. 

"Hi, I'm Meredith Elliot, your new writer. We met in the audition a few weeks ago." I say as I put my hand back down to the side.

"Ah, yes, Ms. Elliot, it is so great to see you again."

"You don't have to call me Ms. Elliot, sir, Meredith is just fine." 

"Same to you, Meredith. Sir makes me feel old, Lorne will do." 

I follow Lorne down the hall as he shows me the writers room, my office, and the studio where Saturday Night Live is shot. I've only ever seen a few episodes of SNL and the ones I have seen are the older episodes. They were my dad's favorites and he would watch them over and over again. 

"If you would, you can follow me and meet some of your new coworkers." 

"Sounds good."

Lorne and I walk through another hallway that is identical to the one we just came through moments before, except this one has a different name on each door. I see that one of the doors is open and can hear voices coming from it. "I wonder if Mulaney is in here." Lorne says to himself as we walk closer to the open door. 

"Hey Lorne, how are you today?" I hear one of the men say. 

"I'm doing just fine, Mulaney. One of the new writers is here." He says, stepping aside, revealing me to the small group of people. 

"Hi, I'm Meredith." I say, giving a small wave. 

"It's nice to meet you Meredith. I'm John and this is Fred." He says, pointing to the man with glasses. "This is Seth and this right here is Kristen." He says, motioning to the other man and blonde woman.

"Where's Bill?" Lorne asks. 

"I'm sure he's on his way. You know how he is." Seth says. 

"That boy's gonna be the death of me." Lorne says as he takes off back down the hallway leaving me, John, and the rest of us alone. Fred picks up right where he left off, talking about Portland and the hassle of flying back and forth to New York, while Seth barely pays attention. 

"Oh god, Fred, will you just shut up about Portland?" Says a tall, dark-haired man. 

"I'm glad to see you're in a good mood today, Bill." Fred says back to him as the man rolls his eyes at his response. 

"As I was saying..." Fred picks up the conversation again as the man walks over to John and I. 

"Who's this?" He asks, pointing his finger at me.

"I'm Meredith, one of the new writers." 

"It's nice to meet you." He says before turning his attention back to John. "Before I left yesterday Lorne stopped me and said we needed to create a new character. I told him that I would talk to you and get back to him." 

"Well, lucky enough for us, we've got a brand new writer to help us out." John says. 

"We can go grab a cup of coffee and start brainstorming if you all don't have anything you have to work on right away this morning." Bill says. 

"I don't. Meredith, are you good for coffee?" 

"Um, I guess, yeah. I would like to drop some of my things in my office first though." 

We walk back to the writers offices on the other side of the main stage, then out the front doors to a coffee shop down the street. John and Bill are recognized, signing autographs and taking a few pictures with fans while I find us a table. I take out my journal, pen, and glasses from my bag. 

"What can I bring you to drink?" John asks while him and Bill walk to the counter. 

"Just a black coffee." I say. 

"Just?" Bill asks. 

"Just." I repeat, letting out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in. 

I open my journal and start writing a few ideas I have. The first one being two best friends, one of them is two-year-old ultimate fighter Drooly Lips Jackson and he has fists like little empanadas. I lay my pen down and watch New York City pass right before my eyes. 

John and Bill join me at the table a few minutes later, John hands me my coffee while Bill gets his things out. 

"Meredith, do you have any ideas you want to share? I see some scribbles in your journal." John says. 

"I've got an idea, but I don't think it could be a reoccurring character, maybe a character for a host." I motion to Bill, "if Lorne told you to write a new character, I assume he meant a recurring character, not one for a guest host." 

"Yeah, I guess so." He says.

"Bill and I have been working on a character for a little while now. We just have to put the finishing touches on him, and we should be good to go." John says. 

"Will Lorne like it though?" Bill asks, John's head shoots up at the question. 

"I sure hope so." He says. 

"So, what's this character like?" I ask. 

"We don't really know just yet. We don't have a name, or a job description, or really any idea of who he is." John says. 

"Everything we've talked about doing has sounded like the nightmares of a crystal meth addict." Bill chimes in. 

"Sounds odd." I say, somewhat intrigued.

"We don't have a name, we don't have an idea of what he does, we don't really know his personality. We just know he's a gay man who enjoys having a good time." Bill says. 

"You think you have a character, but don't know what he's like. Nice." I retort. 

"Damn, it's her first day and she's already giving me a hard time." Bill smiles. "I like her."

We pack our things and head back to the studio. Bill left John and I to go work with the rest of the cast members, while we head to the writers room to work on the new character. 

John writes ideas on a whiteboard while I stare at the blank page of my journal trying to come up with anything. I've never struggled to come up with ideas and I couldn't figure why, out of all times I could draw a blank, was now. 

I didn't know anything about anyone I'm working with. I didn't know what John thought would be funny. I didn't know how Bill would react to one of my ideas instead of Johns. 

"John?" I ask quietly. 

"Yep." He answers. 

"What's Bill like? Like what does he find funny?" I ask. 

"He laughs at everything. To get the best reaction out of him you have to catch him off guard." John says, smiling. 

"I think I'm going to head to my office and start working on some things there. Thank you for being so nice to me and helping me out so much today. You really didn't have to do that." I say, looking down at the ground. 

"You're welcome, Meredith, welcome to the team." John says with a smile before I leave. 

I walk back to my office and throw myself down in my chair, putting my head in my hands. I let out a deep breath and open my laptop, looking through my agenda for the rest of the week. I have meetings all week; cast meetings, writers meetings, general staff meetings. We're still five weeks away from the first live show of the season, but it doesn't mean we're under any less pressure. I stare at the blank page of the journal again, feeling like I’ve failed. My phone starts ringing. 

"Hello?" I say. 

"Hey, are we still on for dinner tonight?" He asks. 

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you then, I need to get back to work." I say. 

"See you then." I hang up the phone without saying another word. 

That was Grant, a guy one of my friends set me up with. I've been living in the city since I graduated high school. I've been with a couple guys since I've been here, but I never became serious with any of them, I never wanted to.

I think about my first day as I walk down the busy New York City street. It is an August evening, meaning the city is much more crowded, making walking down the street that much worse. After a little while of walking, I arrive at the restaurant. 

"Do you have a reservation or are you meeting someone here?" The hostess asks me. 

"I think my date is here." I answer. 

"What's the name?" She asks. 

"Grant Jackson." I tell her. 

"Ah yes, right this way ma'am." She says. 

I follow the hostess through the crowded restaurant, searching for the first sight of him. This is the first date I've been on in almost a year. I see a man with black hair, dressed in a black bomber jacket and jeans. I walk up behind him, tapping his shoulder, giving him a smile as he turns around. 

"Hi, I'm Grant. Nice to meet you." He says, holding a hand out for me to shake. 

"Meredith." I say, taking a seat across him as the waitress comes to take our order.

"How are you?" I ask. 

"I've been well. Work is stressing me out though. I'm a stock broker." He says.

"Wow. That does sound like a tough job." I say, taking the first sip of my martini. 

"So, what do you do?" He finally asks. 

"I'm a writer for Saturday Night Live. Today was my first day actually. I got to meet everyone. They're all so nice and so accepting of new people on the team. I got to help-" I get cut off by the ringing of his cellphone. 

"I'm so sorry. This is work, I've got to take it." He tells me. 

"Yeah, yeah, of course." I say. 

"I'll be back as soon as possible." He says. 

I sit at the table alone, feeling like everyone in the restaurant is staring at me. I take a long drink of my martini, putting the glass back down on the table with a little force. This is typical of men working in New York. I've been left alone plenty of times at tables, it shouldn't bother me, it never has before. Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty minutes, I’m three martinis in. 

"Your food is ready. Would you like for me to bring it out or do you want me to wait for him to come back." The waitress asks. 

"I'll take mine, but make it to-go please. I'll also need a pen and a slip of paper please." I tell her. 

"Of course. Can I get anything else for you?" She asks. 

"No, that'll be it. Thank you." I say. 

The waitress walks back to the kitchen, coming back a little while later with a bag, pen, paper. She put food on the table while I write, "Thank you for inviting me to dinner tonight. It was really nice to meet you and I would have really enjoyed it if I could've seen you for more than ten minutes. I would stay, but I cannot wait for you in this restaurant all night. Thanks, M.E." I thank the waitress again before leaving. 

The walk back to my apartment is long. Both of my bags feel like they’re getting heavier by the second and my head hurts. I shouldn't have drank those martinis. I push my apartment open, throwing everything down on my counter and putting the food in the fridge. I go to my bedroom and change into my pajamas. 

I spent the rest of my evening working on characters and skits, driving myself crazy, but it is the only way I can distract myself.


End file.
